


I'll Keep You Safe

by Shadowmightwrite17



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Mother Hama AU, Zuko goes home and it all goes to shit as usual, the worst family reunion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-01
Updated: 2020-01-01
Packaged: 2021-02-27 16:07:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22059796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shadowmightwrite17/pseuds/Shadowmightwrite17
Summary: Based on MuffinLance's Mother Hama AU. Hama kidnaps Zuko when he's only ten and holds him for six years until the gaang rescue him. They promise to take Zuko to his Uncle during the Eclipse Invasion.My Chapter: Zuko runs away during the Invasion and makes it all the way to Ozai, but the reunion is no reunion at all and it nearly kills Zuko. He's rescued by the (second to) last person you'd expect and reunited with Iroh. So begins a long road to recovery.
Relationships: Iroh & Zuko (Avatar)
Comments: 30
Kudos: 988





	I'll Keep You Safe

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MuffinLance](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MuffinLance/gifts).



> MuffinLance has a beautiful thing going on her with her Tumblr. It's created a little community of writers and readers bouncing off ideas at each other and building it into stories. She encourages everyone to run with her ideas, so long as she gets credit and gets to read them.
> 
> The original premise of the fic can be found here (with three previous chapters and several alternative chapters to mine)  
> https://archiveofourown.org/works/21632206/chapters/51951307
> 
> I posted my chapter to my tumblr (background-noise-headache) a few weeks ago but yesterday I got asked to upload it here too.

The sight of home after six years changed everything.

The invasion was pushing through the streets, gaining ground and buying time for Aang to find the Fire Lord. Zuko was on the front lines, fighting people in red, fighting his people. His people. And then he saw the palace, saw home.

He’d dreamed of home for six years, and now he was here but fighting the people he was supposed to protect. The Fire Nation was his, these people were his, this was his home. And he was paving the way for the Avatar to tear it down.

For his friends to tear his home down.

His heart wavered as he stood alone in the alley, looking up the hill at the palace that towered overall.

And he did the thing he knew best, he ran.

He grabbed an abandoned red cloak and disappeared through the alleys, finding his way home the same way he would have all those years ago if Hama hadn’t found him. Stolen him.

It was shockingly easy to get into the palace, and then eerie how empty it was.

This was another dream, wasn’t it.

And like all his dreams, he searched for the one thing he wanted most.

“Mom?”

When she left, Father shut away their shared room and ordered nobody ever enter it again. The Fire Lord chambers were his, but the room he once shared with his wife was hers. Zuko hadn’t seen it in six years.

The doors were locked. Always locked.

And then the guards found him. They barked orders for him to get on the ground. Years of listening to Hama’s every word were ingrained in every movement he ever made. He was on his knees and chained before the guards pulled back the hood and saw the hauntingly familiar face.

Truly, the boy looked like his father.

“Prince Zuko?”

It took a moment too long to remember his name, and by the time he managed a nod he was unchained and pulled to his feet.

This was different from all his dreams.

They took him down familiar halls.

And then down familiar tunnels.

They were taking him back to Hama.

He struggled, fighting against them but they were stronger than he was. They stopped, filling the tunnels with echoes of kind words.

_It’s okay. You’re safe now. We’re taking you to your father. Just a little farther._

The tall steal doors opened to a large cavern lit by fire lamps. Zuko stood on the doorway and stared at the man he’d dreamed of for six years. His throat seized.

This was real. Right?

Father.

His eyes stung and his vision blurred as his father stood from his thrown carved in stone.

“Father?” he choked out.

“Prince Zuko.”

The low voice with only the faintest rasp. He’d forgotten the sound of Father’s voice years ago, but he recognized it the second he heard it.

This wasn’t a dream.

Zuko ran towards his father and buried himself on his silk robes, tears streaming down his cheeks.

“I’m home,” he whispered to himself.

Ozai pulled him away, hands on Zuko’s shoulders as he looked down on his sixteen year old son. He was unmistakable. Six years changed nothing, he would recognize Zuko no matter what. Ozai looked to his guards and waved them out. The tall doors shut and Ozai looked back at shaking, crying son.

“How is this possible? Where have you been?”

Zuko swallowed back his tears. “A woman named Hama took me.”

“Took you where? How?”

“She was a water bender.”

The hands on his shoulders tightened. “How could a water bender take you, a fire bender?”

“She could blood bend. She could control the water in someone’s blood and stop them from running away. She took people away on full moons and leave them in chains to die. Someone finally found out and I…”

Hot blood slipped through his fingers as the light in Hama’s eyes faded under the moonlight. He watched her dying body, watched the blood dry on his hands until it cracked and chipped away, but no matter how hard he scrubbed he couldn’t make the red stains on his hands fade.

“How did you get here?”

“The people who stopped her, they found me and they promised to take me here.”

Ozai pulled away the red cloak, the green fabric on his shoulder a stark contrast.

“These clothes…”

They didn’t want to accidentally mistake him for the enemy during the invasion, so they made him wear green. To keep him safe.

“The Avatar brought you here,” Ozai said in a low voice that cast a chill on Zuko’s skin. He knew that voice too, knew that before it came—

“You traitorous brat. You brought them here to betray me, to betray your family, your country!”

“No!”

“You let a water bender steal you away.”

“No!”

“She filled your head with lies.”

“No, that’s not true!”

“If you were truly my son you would have escaped and come home sooner.”

“I tried! Father, I tried! I ran so many times but,” his voice cracked and another sob broke through. “It was never enough. No matter how hard I tried, she always caught me.”

“You’re a fire bender! No water bender should hope to stop you, let alone succeed!”

“Father,” Zuko whispered, voice weak.

“The Avatar ‘saved’ you, and in return you brought him here.”

“No!”

“Do you know the punishment for treason?” Ozai whispered.

Zuko fell to his knees, heart beat fast and painful. “Father, I am your loyal son!” Tears poured down his cheeks. “I’m loyal to the Fire Nation! I would never hurt our people! Please!”

The hands clutching his shoulders softened. “I believe you,” he whispered.

Zuko looked up to those golden eyes and that gentle smile he only saw in his dreams, heart fluttering with hope.

“Agni shines on the strong,” Ozai whispered, his hand straying to up, his thumb softly brushing away the tears. The gentle smile turned to a sneer. “But the weak shall fall.”

The gentle hand turned hot, fire pressing in with searing white pain. A horrible, piercing scream echoed off the stone walls as sickening smoke filled the air. Ozai threw the boy back to the ground with a sneer.

Zuko’s screams broke into gasping whimpers of pain, curling up tight as the pain continued to burn, long after Ozai had left.

* * *

Azula marched down the tunnel with a pleased smirk. She’d succeeded in deterring the Avatar and kept her father safe. He would be pleased.

And then she saw the open steal doors of the bunker’s thrown room. She heard the weak whimpers and stopped. Had they found him? They couldn’t have! She’d been perfect in her diversion, wasting their time until they were forced to run or be captured.

Someone was in there, alive but not for long. Enemy or ally.

She ran in and found a body curled before her father’s throne. Dark hair and a red cloak. Too small to be Father. A guard maybe?

With measured steps she approached the body. She found the green clothes, the pale skin, and the fresh, still smoking burn. He turned silent as the dead, but his shaking body gave him away. Azula knelt down and turned his head. A hand grabbed her wrist and his remained eye opened wide. A golden eye like the sun, pure and brilliant. An eye like her own.

Her calm heart thudded painfully against her chest for two heartbeats, just two.

“Azula?” he whispered.

“Zuko?”

“I came home. Please don’t burn me too.”

Azula looked to the empty thrown and back at her brother. He had returned home to their father on the worst day possible after six years away.

Six years in which their father had not cared to find him again.

Zuko was a name he never mentioned, a name like Ursa. Erased.

Ozai had allowed posters of her missing brother to circle around the country, but never did he express a single hope that Zuko would return.

But he had.

And Ozai burned him on the spot.

And one question burned in her mind.

“Where have you been?”

_I missed you_ , her traitorous heart whispered.

Only in her darkest, loneliest, most hopeless moments did she ever admit to herself that she missed him.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his eyes glazing over.

“No, Zuko,” she said, shaking his unburned shoulder, but the boy in her arms stopped moving and that single eye drifted shut. “Zuko!”

* * *

Six years.

She couldn’t let him die.

But she couldn’t protect him here.

Ozai wanted him dead.

Ozai wanted his perfect daughter as heir.

And Azula wanted her brother back.

* * *

The Dai Li were loyal to her first. They followed her orders to the letter.

Find a healer. Find the traitorous fire sage who had helped the Avatar and remained in their prison. Find Uncle. Commandeer a war balloon.

All but Uncle could be procured.

Uncle had escaped.

That stupid, foolish, useless, traitorous, fat, old man. Of all the days to disappear, it had to be when his favorite nephew showed up after six years. Uncle had come home full of grief and the first thing he did when he got home was bury that grief to find Zuko.

And failed, like always.

Damn him.

She had a healer, a fire sage, supplies, and a war balloon. That would be enough to get Zuko to safety. Where safety was, she had no idea, but she couldn’t go with him.

Her brother lay motionless on a cot, wrapped thick in blankets and bandages, drugged to oblivion. The healer and the fire sage stood to the side as she knelt down beside him.

“You stupid idiot. You come home and the first thing you do is find the man who never wanted you?” she whispered, bitter and angry and sad and longing.

She didn’t shed a tear, she didn’t let her voice break. She touched her fingers to his unburnt cheek and gave him a soft smile.

“Goodbye Zuko,” she whispered as she tucked his sheathed knife under a blanket. “Never give up without a fight, but please never come home.”

In a moment of rare weakness, she pressed a kiss to his forehead the way she remembered Mother doing. Always for Zuko, never for her.

She didn’t watch the war balloon drift into the night. She returned home to a father who demanded to know what had happened to the body he left in an empty cavern.

“It’s obvious he was an imposter. I knew the second I saw him. He should have been killed on the spot by the guards, but instead they brought him to you. _He_ has enough sympathizers hoping for his safe return. Nobody can ever know what you did, no matter how justified.”

* * *

Shyu set a course for Piandao’s estate. While he wasn’t high in rank among the White Lotus, he knew how close General Iroh, the Grand Master, and Piandao were. If anyone knew of Iroh’s whereabouts, it would be Piandao. And if nobody could find the Grand Master, then Piandao would keep Zuko safe until they could.

A surprise waited for them on the estate.

They arrived in the dead of night inside the enclosed courtyard. There was silence, and then suddenly there was a sword pressed to his neck, a breath away from cutting him open. The healer squeaked as a swordsman grabbed him in the same hold.

“We’re here because Prince Zuko needs your help!” Shyu cried.

“Prince Zuko is dead,” an old voice said. “What business do you have bringing my nephew’s name into this?”

Shyu almost turned his head towards the voice but the sword kept him still. “He’s alive, he’s here,” he whispered. “He’s in the war balloon and he needs help.”

“Is that young Shyu I hear?” the old voice asked, drawing closer.

“Go back inside,” a stern voice said from behind Shyu.

“Shyu is a member of the White Lotus, and a known traitor to the Fire Nation who helped the Avatar. No matter the reward, I doubt he would betray us.”

The man with the stern voice released Shyu, and a second later the healer was released. Shyu turned to see Piandao, sword relaxed but always at the ready. In the direction of the old voice was a shadow.

“Please Iroh,” he said.

Iroh took a step closer into the moonlight, his eyes sad and wary as they turned to the war balloon. “Do not give me false hope,” he whispered.

“It’s him.”

Iroh took a measured breath and approached the war balloon. He found the motionless body on the cot and his heart nearly gave out. Alive, Shyu said Zuko was alive. Iroh knelt down beside the cot and looked at the boy. Only a boy, but so grown up from the eight-year-old Iroh had last seen. His face was turned away from Iroh, peacefully sleeping, but Iroh couldn’t ignore the white bandages wrapped around his head. He’d been hurt. How? Who? Where had Zuko been all this time?

“Let’s get him inside,” the healer said.

Fat and Iroh carried the cot into the manor and set Zuko down in the formal greeting room.

“Fat, perhaps you could make us some tea,” Piandao whispered.

The glow of the fireplace cast enough light on the boy’s face to truly see.

This was undoubtedly Zuko.

For six years Zuko’s portrait had say beside that of his beloved son and of his dearly missed wife. Iroh would never forget a face like that, no matter how many years passed. Decades, old age, memory loss, and death would never fade Zuko from his heart.

Iroh tucked his finger under Zuko’s chin and turned his head. Then he saw that the bandage centered over Zuko’s left eye with a faint patch of dried blood.

“What happened to you?” Iroh whispered, tears welling in his eyes.

“Our understanding is that he returned home during the eclipse and was brought to Ozai,” Shyu said.

Iroh’s free hand curled into a white knuckled fist. “And what did my brother do?” he asked in a dangerous voice.

“He… he burned Zuko,” Shyu said, voice wavering. “His left eye and his right shoulder.”

“They were hand shaped burns,” the healer said, speaking for the first time. “They’re deep. Not even a water bender could heal it all. He’ll be lucky if…”

Iroh blinked back tears and looked to the healer. His voice kept strong as he said, “Don’t hesitate now, I need to know.”

“He’ll be lucky if he survives. Infection is the biggest risk and almost inevitable, especially after the less than ideal sudden travel. If he lives, it will be a miracle if he can keep his eye. Right now we’re administering a strong combination of medications to reduce pain and keep him asleep. It won’t last forever, but it’s better if he doesn’t have to be awake for the worst of it.”

“How did you manage to get him here after Ozai… My brother would not have left him alive, not after this.”

“Ozai left him for dead in the bunker, and the princess found him. She brought him to us and ordered that we keep him safe. She ordered for you to be released but you had already escaped.”

The tears fell this time. With an aching heart, Iroh touched his hand to Zuko’s chest. Through the abundance of blankets he couldn’t feel his nephew’s heartbeat, but he could feel the warmth and solidness of his still living body.

“May I have a moment alone with my nephew?”

Retreating footsteps were his answer, and when he was alone Iroh wept openly. “Where have you been?” he whispered, “and why couldn’t I protect you?”

Iroh touched his fingers to the thin, brittle hair that wasn’t bandaged. Wherever he had been, food was not a luxury he was guaranteed, and if Iroh had to guess, underneath these blankets was a thin, frail boy. The remaining half of his face said even more. The too-sharp cheekbones and the dark circles under his eyes on too pale skin.

Zuko had returned from a nightmare to something just as evil.

A soldier dreamed of home during the hell of battle. A boy dreamed of home in a living nightmare.

And home had promised him only suffering.

* * *

In the two weeks that passed Zuko had lived through a dangerous infection and resulting fever. Delirious from drugs or fever or pain, he didn’t understand where he was, only that here was not where he should be. When he looked at Iroh, he didn’t recognize him. Iroh could only hope that was the delirium at work, and not something more permanent.

When he was awake he asked if he was dreaming or if this was real. Was he finally free? Had he been rescued? Why was he in pain if he was as safe as Iroh promised? Where were his friends? Where was Uncle.

“I’m right here,” Iroh promised, holding Zuko’s limp hand.

Zuko’s golden eyes drifting to Iroh, distant and unrecognizing. And then they closed.

* * *

No matter how many times he woke up, the pain never left. It was always there. Sometimes bearable, sometimes unimaginable. He didn’t understand how Hama had done this to him. This wasn’t the kind of punishment she gave.

He escaped.

He’d been caught again.

This was his punishment.

Zuko opened his eyes to a strange room. It was ornate, rich, but not like home. It was light and smelled like jasmine, not like mildew and human stench. If he was with Hama, he should be in his cage. That’s where he always was. Until he lived out whatever time period Hama had decided upon and proved himself good enough to let out.

This wasn’t Hama.

Hama was dead. He killed her. And he ran. Somewhere. Nowhere. Everywhere.

Had someone else found him?

Someone better? Someone worse?

He saw a bright sunrise and a boy in orange with tattoos. He saw a water bender. Not Hama. Not Hama. She was nice, but as nice as she was, he knew he couldn’t trust her. She hated fire benders, hated Fire Nation, and that’s what he was. Dirty, evil Fire Nation. He remembered the boy in orange who promised he’d take Zuko to his uncle.

He was rescued, but this wasn’t home.

The pain didn’t fade. It burned faintly, ached dully. Ever present, never changing. It had been worse, he remembered that.

The stone floor. The smoke, the putrid smell of someone burning. Of him burning.

Red and the gentle hand that burned.

The low, raspy voice he swore he knew. Somewhere.

Someone. Someone.

He searched for the memory, following it deeper and deeper into the dark, and it slipped away every time.

* * *

He opened his eye to the bright room. The world wasn’t moving the way it had before. Everything seemed clearer. Painful, but clearer. The heavy blankets weighed him down as he stretched limps heavier than lead. The right one hurt too much to move, but his left could reach. Reach for the eye that couldn’t see. Why couldn’t he see?

“No Zuko, you need to leave the bandages alone,” a voice said, and just as his fingers brushed the soft cotton, burning pain spreading under just the faintest touch, a hand grabbed his wrist.

He pulled his hand away, pushing away his attacker and nearly fell out of bed. Something, someone steadied the bed, speaking but Zuko’s hammering heart was talking louder. He looked up at the old man who held his bed steady and stared at him with eyes he recognized from… somewhere…

“It may not feel like it yet, but you are safe,” the man whispered. “You were hurt, but you were rescued and brought here so you could be healed.”

“Hama?” Zuko whispered, dread turning his skin cold and pale.

The man looked confused but shook his head. “Hama is not here.”

His relaxed for a moment, until he remembered why Hama wasn’t here.

The blood. Blood was her greatest weapon, and he took it from her. Her blood was on his hands, but his blood was no longer at her command.

Hama was gone. He was free.

They said they’d take him to his uncle now that he was free.

“Where’s Uncle?” he whispered.

“I’m right here nephew, and I’ll never leave you again,” the man promised.

Zuko looked up at those familiar eyes. He felt tears in his one seeing eye, slipping out the corner and down his temple into his hair.

“When can I go home?”

Uncle’s eyes turned sad. “Not for some time. Not until it’s safe.”

“Why isn’t it safe?”

“That’s where you got hurt. One day it will be safe, but not for some time.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I know, and that’s okay. You’re still recovering. It’ll take time.”

Uncle made him drink some soup before he was allowed to go back to sleep.

* * *

Zuko woke to a dark room and sat up immediately, reaching for the first familiar thing. The blankets were strange, too soft. The room was too warm. There was no horrible moonlight coming in through the windows. This was not—

A snore broke through the silence, loud and unfamiliar. Zuko flinched away from it, and in his insistent need to know where he was, he spark a tiny fire in his palm. The weakest thing. Hama would punish him if she caught him fire bending.

Hama was not here.

Sitting in the chair was…

Uncle?

Uncle.

Zuko saw the candle at his bedside and clumsily reached to light it. In the dim light he settled down and watched Uncle snore away.

He was safe. Uncle was here. Uncle would never let anyone hurt him again.

* * *

He woke with a scream in his throat and the fresh burns on his skin. Father looked down on him, his gentle hands burning Zuko. Zuko clawed at the bandages, trying to find the burns but someone kept grabbing his hands and no, no, no, let go!

Someone was calling his name.

His hands slowed, and the hands holding him let go.

“It was a nightmare Nephew, but I’m here now and I’ll protect you.”

“Uncle?”

“Yes, I’m here.”

Zuko found himself crying and reaching out for the voice in the dark. The light of a candle filled the room. For a moment Zuko flinched away, remembering his nightmare.

“Father, he couldn’t have,” he whispered.

“Do you remember?”

Zuko shook his head. “It’s just a nightmare. It’s not real. They’re all nightmares.”

“I’m so sorry Zuko,” Uncle whispered, pulling his chair closer.

Zuko shook his head, shaking in bed. “I don’t want it to be real.”

“You are safe here, with me, that is real. I will not leave you again, that is real,” Uncle said.

“I was rescued. That was real,” he whispered, biting his lip.

“Yes, it was.”

“When they first rescued me, I would wake up and forget. I would think I was still with her and that being rescued was just a dream. I would forget what I… She can’t hurt me now, but I forget.”

“What you went through is more than most grown men can handle. You are a survivor, someone who never gives up without a fight.”

Zuko shook his head. “I fought so hard, and every time I lost.”

“You won in the way that matters most. You escaped and you’re alive. You survived a hell nobody could imagine. It will take time to heal from that, but you will not have to do it alone. No matter how many nightmares you have, or how many nights you wake up and forget where you are, I will be here to remind you.

“Nobody will hurt you here,” Uncle promised.

Tears rolled down Zuko’s right cheek as he looked up at his uncle and launched himself into a hug. He’d dreamed of a hug like this for six years, and the moment he got it he had been burned.

Uncle promised not to hurt him.

Uncle held him close, warm and present and gentle. No pain followed. Only love.

He was home.

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know when I'm going to add to this, maybe in the next decade.
> 
> Sorry, I had to, it's like 5 pm on Dec 31, 2019 and there's no way I'm not using that joke.
> 
> I'm definitely adding more, eventually. I have plans now, thanks to that anon. Including Zuko getting to recover, some Azula redemption, and hopefully Zuko getting his own field trips. You can send me an ask on my tumblr, background-noise-headache if you want to know more.
> 
> Wishing you all a happy 2020 that gives you only good things.
> 
> Edited 31 December 2020 at 6:41 pm: I have been notably and thoroughly informed that 2020 was not, in fact, a good thing.
> 
> (Side Note: Did I panic while overthinking the title of this fic and settle for naming it after a lyric from Sleeping At Last? No...)


End file.
